


Upon the Precipice

by fraufi666



Category: New South Wales State Politics, Political RPF - Australian 20th-21st c.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Authority Figures, BDSM, Brutalism has a very different meaning here, Disputes about architecture, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Manipulation, New South Wales Politics - Freeform, Nipple Clamps, Nudity, Politics, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Revenge, Riding Crops, Romance, Spanking, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: While Dominic Perrottet and Rob Stokes are in the same party, both politicians could not have a more different view on architecture. Much to Perrottet’s disgust, Stokes succeeds in twisting his hand to retain the White Bay Power Station. In hopes of getting his revenge, Perrottet writes an article condemning a variety of buildings that he hopes to destroy for good. Yet little does he know, the Planning Minister has other ideas.
Relationships: Andrew Constance/Dominic Perrottet, Dominic Perrottet/Rob Stokes
Kudos: 1





	Upon the Precipice

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is an AU. Although I have used real people and political figures this is entirely a work of fiction. All romantic encounters, events and insinuations are from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any of the people depicted. I am also in no way politically biased.

It felt like a defeat, even though others behaved otherwise. Rob Stokes did it. Somehow, he managed to twist his arm to get him to change his mind. Dominic Perrottet hated how influential he was, but worst of all, he hated how easily swayed he was. Stokes was after all a lowly Planning Minister. But somehow, he always had a way of getting under his skin.

Perrottet sighed, leaning back in his desk in exhaustion. The hideous White Bay Power Station remained stubbornly in its place. Recalling the events from hours ago, the Treasurer could still remember his own disgust as he ventured into the power station, dressed in a Hazmat suit.

Stokes’s slight figure greeted him at the entrance as he arrived.

“I’m so glad you finally agreed to come and have a look, Treasurer.” The Planning Minister responded smoothly, his slightly more polished Mona Vale accent setting Perrottet’s teeth on edge. There was a light touch on his shoulder as he escorted him into the building first. “As you can see, a team of architects have decided to repurpose this building. The asbestos is no good, but we will get rid of it soon.”

The Treasurer nodded hastily, hoping that this pompous twit would get to the point.

“And how much will it cost exactly?” He asked, hoping that bringing money into the equation would cause Stokes to reconsider.

“Actually…” Stokes paused for dramatic effect, “It will be cheaper to retain the building and clear out the inside than it will be to demolish it completely.”

Perrottet felt his cheeks burn and was thankful that Stokes could not see his embarrassment under the Hazmat suit. “But…” He stammered, “Are the locals even happy having a dilapidated eyesore in their midst?” Even though he did not venture into Rozelle on a daily basis, seeing the power station in the distance was enough to make his skin crawl.

A chuckle emanated from the other man’s Hazmat suit, “Oh Dom, I consulted many locals about this and there’s considerably more support to keep it there than to demolish it!” A gloved hand clapped against his shoulder and Perrottet tensed up. “Let’s face it: You’re a brilliant Treasurer mate, but you’re an appalling architect.”

Perrottet felt slightly offended at the back-handed compliment and racked his brains desperately for a passage from Roger Scruton’s book on _Beauty_ , hoping that he could demolish his arguments just as easily as he wanted to demolish the hideous asbestos-ridden wreck that they were standing within. But for some reason, it was as if his mind was on pause. He struggled to articulate the words he needed, let alone retrieve the information he was searching for.

Due to the Treasurer’s silence, the Planning Minister took it as approval. He grabbed hold of Perrottet’s gloved hand, giving it a firm shake. “I’m glad we can come to an agreement.” He said warmly, his eyes gleaming from behind the safety goggles.

“But I-” Perrottet started to say, but it was no use. Stokes had completely ignored him and was busy showing him around the rest of the site. All the Treasurer could do was to feebly nod and pretend to be interested in the heritage of the power station. It was perhaps more boring than watching one of his children’s school plays, and wondering why they put a lobster of all things into a nativity play.* It was perhaps worthwhile to write a letter to the school, asking them why they would cheapen such a sacred tradition.

Back in his office, Perrottet blinked a few times, as if to rid himself of the torturous memory. He glanced at the letterhead of the sheet ahead of him. Premier Gladys Berejiklian was back once more. Although Andrew Constance had succeeded in taking over from her, his leadership was short-lived. The public were even _less_ content with a country boy, once Transport Minister running state affairs, so much so that they were willing to overlook Berejiklian’s past errors.

As a result, Perrottet still felt some discomfort as he had to continue to wear the chastity belt, for Constance no longer had access to the key. He could strangle the man for putting him in such an awkward position. But despite his frustrations, he could not rid his feelings for him. Constance stood by him even when he voiced his discontent for the White Bay Power Station. He even agreed with him. Briefly, he recalled Constance’s gentle hand on his arm as he steered him away from the pesky reporters who continued to prod them on the questions about the power station. Despite all the things that had happened during their tumultuous relationship, Constance still cared.

His hand hovered over the phone as he longed to call him. But he could not help but feel paranoid that there were eavesdroppers.

Suddenly, the door swung open, startling the Treasurer. He could has sworn he was dreaming as Constance briefly walked over, before climbing onto his desk and grabbing hold of his tie, kissing him on the lips.

“W-what are you doing here?” Perrottet stammered, heart still racing after the kiss.

The Transport Minister chuckled, his blue eyes shining as he sat down on the desk. “That’s no way to greet a mate, Dom.”

“Sorry, Andrew.” The Treasurer apologised, looking around the room in case someone else was lurking around the corner. “Just…are you not worried about someone finding out about us?”

“Who’s going to know?” Constance asked, smirking. “I told my colleagues that we were going to talk about funding for the Parramatta light rail.”

“You can’t keep using that as an excuse each time!” Perrottet cried, “They’re going to notice you’re lying sooner or later.”

“Chill out, Dom. Why do you have to be so uptight all the time?” He grinned before reaching into his pocket, drawing out a silver key. Perrottet’s eyes widened. He recognised it immediately.

Constance leaned in close to whisper into the Treasurer’s ear.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I managed to nab it from the Premier’s briefcase. I think we need to let you loose now.”

Perrottet breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, but hurry up please.”

With a flourish, the Transport Minister unlocked the chastity belt. He leaned in, planting hard kisses against the Treasurer’s neck while his hand gripped one of his thighs. Perrottet gasped as he felt himself hardening, aching to be touched once more. Just as Constance was about to remove the belt, there was a knock on the door.

The politicians fumbled, trying to disentangle themselves from each other’s embrace. But due to their hasty, clumsy movements, the belt clicked shut.

“The key!” Perrottet choked desperately, but Constance was putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh! I think someone can hear us.” Constance hushed, pocketing the key quickly. His gaze turned towards the door. He got to his feet, smoothing out the creases of his suit as he walked over to investigate.

“Hi, Andrew. Is the Treasurer available to speak to?” A familiar quiet voice asked meekly.

Perrottet quickly zipped up his trousers before straightening his glasses to try and look presentable. He mouthed a “no”, waving his hand dismissively, but Constance did not seem to notice.

“Yeah mate he’s all yours.” Constance said. He gave the furious Treasurer a wink. “See you soon.”

The timing could not have been worse. The door swung open to reveal the last person he wanted to see.

“What is it, Rob?” Perrottet asked gruffly as the Planning Minister walked in.

The blond gave a rueful grin. “I thought you would at least be thrilled to know that the White Bay Power Station will be saved.” He said, his greenish eyes twinkling in jest. Stokes knew that this was the last thing Perrottet would have wanted.

“I don’t care about that eyesore. You know my stance on it.” Perrottet responded firmly, his eyes downcast.

“Well, I care.” Stokes replied with a smile. The palms of his hands rested on the Treasurer’s desk and Perrottet could not help but admire the softly tanned fingers as they caressed the polished mahogany. “We make quite a nice team.” He remarked, “You, Demolition Dom and me, Restoration Rob.”*

Perrottet scoffed, finding the nicknames to be pathetic and ridiculous. “Whatever. I have a lot of work to do. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to it.”

In an instant, the hand enclosed over Perrottet’s own. The Treasurer looked up in shock, his heart in his throat.

“Make no mistake, Dom.” Stokes muttered, the white smile practically blinding him, “Despite your position of power, I will make sure you’ll _never_ destroy these jewels of Sydney. You have my word.”

The Treasurer was shaking as the hand squeezed his, before Stokes turned his heel and left the room. There were too many emotions passing through his mind that he could not work out what exactly he was feeling. But one emotion in particular seemed to overwhelm the rest of his senses. Anger. Hot, red anger coursed through his veins, closing his hands into fists. Like a ferocious crowd, it spurred him on to doing what he knew would be controversial. But he did not care.

As if someone had flicked on a switch, Perrottet turned to his computer and began typing an article that he knew would go against everything that the Planning Minister had wanted. Stokes may have had an influence on him in person, but he was not going to stop him from speaking his mind. Somebody had to preserve conservative values by destroying all that was ugly, and he was not going to back down from this battle without a fight.

~

There was a smile on the Treasurer’s face as he checked the news the next morning. The opinion piece he had submitted to _The_ _Sydney Morning Herald_ had finally been published and he could not be more satisfied.

_Ten iconic buildings I’d bulldoze, by Treasurer Dominic Perrottet*  
  
_Although he was in a mad frenzy while writing the article, the title was biting and straight to the point. He knew that he was going to get plenty of readers. Those who respected the traditional beauty of Sydney would understand, he was sure of it. Even though he was exhausted from writing that article, he felt some comfort in knowing that his views were now out there, available for the world to see.

_Take that, Rob._ He thought to himself with glee. He could not wait to see that stupid smirk wiped off Stokes’s face while he read that article. It was going to be a blow to the Planning Minister’s confidence and he would think twice before trying to sway the Treasurer to approve of another monstrosity again.

When he arrived in Parliament, he kept an eye out for Stokes. The Planning Minister seemed to be preoccupied with some sort of business in his office, and the temptation to burst in and interrupt him was overwhelming.

But he was still so frustrated with how that dreadful man had interrupted his meeting with Constance. He looked around to see if the Transport Minister was anywhere in sight. The chastity belt was really starting to bother him now, and he desperately wished to be free from its binds.

“Dom! Just the man I need to see.” Stokes was gazing at Perrottet expectantly as he had approached the corridor. Perrottet turned to leave, but the Planning Minister caught up to him anyway. “I read your article.”

The Treasurer stopped in his tracks. Even though he was hoping for a prompt response from this man, he was now nervous with the knowledge that he had read the article. With some reluctance, he turned slowly to face Stokes.

“And...what did you think?” He asked in hesitation.

Stokes smiled. “It was quite an interesting read. But I need to show you a hidden architectural gem in one of these buildings that might change your mind. And anyway, _all brutalist buildings_ is not counted as _one_ building in Sydney.”

The condescending smugness in his tone caused the hairs on the back of the Treasurer’s neck to bristle.

“What are you getting at?” Perrottet asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“Just come to the MLC Centre with me. I have something to show you.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Perrottet snapped, getting impatient. He had no idea what the Planning Minister had in mind. Was he really prepared to listen to this man ramble on about modernist architecture for hours on end? Did he really have a choice?

“It’ll only take a few minutes. It’ll be an eye-opening experience for you.” Stokes promised. Something in that soft, assuring tone seemed to sway him. Perhaps a few minutes away from his stuffy office would make all of the difference.

…And take his mind off the stupid chastity belt that was still firmly locked onto him.

“Fine.” Stokes’s smile seemed to fill the room, “But only a few minutes.” Perrottet cautioned.

“You won’t regret it.” Stokes replied. “We’ll be back in time before the next sitting of Parliament.”  
  


In the next few minutes, the Liberal MPs were in a taxi. Much to the Treasurer’s relief, it did not take very long for them to arrive to the MLC Centre. Perrottet cringed as he gazed at the octagonal edifice, which seemed to loom over them.

“How much do you know about Harry Seidler?” Stokes asked once they got out of the taxi. They began to walk down towards the entrance of the building.

“I don’t know.” Perrottet grumbled, “All I know is that he made that monstrosity.”

“Well, yes.” Stokes said, gazing at the building in admiration. “But sometimes brutalism can have some amazing qualities. Come in and have a look at the interior.”

Perrottet gave a hurried glance at his watch. Okay, so there was still time. Just a few more minutes and then they can put all this silliness behind them. He followed the Planning Minister. Despite being slightly shorter in height, he had so much energy and seemed to walk a lot faster than the Treasurer.

“Look up.” Stokes instructed.

The Treasurer did as he was told. The undulating curves of the upper floors seemed to ripple like waves. How was it that some concrete could have a fluid effect like liquid? It was almost mesmerising, but he did not want to be proven wrong.

“Okay, so it’s an interesting design.” Perrottet admitted, “But so what? It’s still hideous compared to the Australia Hotel. Quite frankly, it should have never been built.”

Stokes ignored the remark as he walked towards the elevator, gesturing the other follow him in. “The main attraction isn’t so much what’s below, but on the very top floor. Marcel Breuer, one of the modern masters of the Bauhaus was especially influential to Seidler. Even though Seidler wasn’t involved in the Bauhaus directly, you can still see aspects that are still so reminiscent of the German design school. Smooth, sleek lines, minimal decoration…

Perrottet wanted to fall asleep as the Planning Minister continued to drone on. None of what he was saying was exciting to him in the slightest. And besides, he had heard similar arguments before, especially from leftists who wanted to save the most hideous eyesores alive. As much as he had wanted to preserve history, progress had to make way instead of these ugly, hideous buildings. Stokes was just as deluded as they were. The sooner he woke up to himself, the better.

The elevator pinged and Stokes grinned.

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

The Treasurer feigned a smile, hoping they could get back to Parliament as soon as possible. Even though they had not been in the building for long, he felt like he had seen it all. He followed Stokes along through a corridor before approaching a door ahead of them.

Stokes reached into his pocket and to Perrottet’s surprise, unlocked the door to what appeared to be the penthouse. He gestured Perrottet to follow him in.

“How do you have access to this area?” Perrottet asked nervously as soon as Stokes had closed the door behind them. “Are we even allowed here?"

“You should know that as Planning Minister I have plenty of connections with architects. They’ll be fine with me showing you around. _Flattered_ , even.”

The Treasurer frowned slightly. Somehow he did not think that seeing a penthouse would persuade him to like the MLC Building more than the Australia Hotel. Nevertheless, he hoped that Stokes would hurry up and get to the point so they could go back to work.

Stokes gestured at the room around them. “This is all very reminiscent to Art Deco, as you can see by the geometric forms on the floor. Art Deco was after all what the Bauhaus was partially inspired by. Look at the smooth lines. So little ornamentation, and yet it still makes a huge statement, does it not?”

“I guess.” Perrottet grumbled in disinterest. All these architecture movements sounded like buzzwords to him: merely created to justify shoddy design. He did not care for art school jargon. It was all just so wasteful and tiring.

“You have to see the view from here. Come over to the window and have a look.”

“I don’t care to, I’ve seen enough.” Perrottet replied, turning away.

Stokes raised his eyebrows in mock concern, “Oh? You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

“Of course not!” The Treasurer shot back. He gave a shrug, knowing that standing around and arguing about such nonsensical things would waste his time even more. “Let’s just get this over with.” He responded finally.

Stokes led Perrottet towards the window of the penthouse. To one side, a sheet covered a tall object propped against the wall. Perrottet assumed it was just some random part of the construction that the builders had left behind. Before he could point it out to Stokes, he felt a rough grip on his wrist as Stokes pulled him towards the edge.

“Now would you look at that…”

The Planning Minister’s eyes were shining, boyish excitement on his fair features as he marvelled the view below. He inclined his head slightly to Perrottet, although his eyes were glued to the scenery. “You would never get a view like this just from standing at ground level. See, this is why the MLC building is needed. If we got rid of such a beauty, what would we have in place instead?”

From this vantage point, the view was indeed remarkable. But Perrottet did not care for the concrete jungle below. Perhaps it was the aching desire to be released from the constraints of the chastity belt, or his unfulfilled needs from the other day speaking, but his gaze had turned towards the Planning Minister. Although he had been working beside him for years, he had never noticed the high, prominent cheekbones. Despite his height, Stokes had a commanding physique. In a way, he was oddly handsome, and despite his efforts, Perrottet could not look away.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Stokes asked, seemingly oblivious to his colleague’s fixation on him.

“Yes…” Perrottet muttered, eyes still hopelessly latched onto him, thinking about the muscles beneath that tailored suit, “It is.”

Stokes turned finally to look at Perrottet. The pearly white smile flashed back at him, moments before he grabbed the back of the Treasurer’s head, pulling him close. Their lips crashed violently, and it was impossible to say who had made the first move. Perrottet was panting heavily as Stokes traced a hand down to his groin, before hastily unzipping his trousers.

“Oh…” Stokes remarked in cheeky curiosity as he noticed the chastity belt. “What do we have here?”

Perrottet’s cheeks burned at the question. “I-I…” He began, not knowing how to articulate himself. He could not let the Planning Minister find out about his affair with Constance.

“I always knew you were really into Catholicism…but wow, this is taking things to the next level.”

Playfully, he ran his hand against where the shaft would be, smirking at the other man’s panicky but aroused expression. “Don’t worry, Dom. I am after all the Planning Minister. I know just the thing to put you out of your misery.”

He walked over to where the sheet-covered object was. To one side, he took out a pair of bolt-cutters that had been left behind. Quickly, but efficiently, he broke open the lock, allowing the contraption to fall to reveal the Treasurer’s aching erection.

“Oh you poor thing. How long has it been since you’ve last done anything exciting?” Stokes asked. “Did your wife put you up to this?”

Perrottet racked his brains for a convincing enough lie, but as Stokes began to kiss his neck, he was unable to think properly at all. He closed his eyes as the other man began to remove his suit jacket, before unbuttoning his shirt. Exposed and out in public, all he could do was tremble.

Once he was completely naked, he collapsed into the other man’s embrace, desperate to be loved and caressed in a way that he had missed for a long time. But Stokes was firm and merciless, taking hold of his wrist and pulling him towards where the sheet-covered object was.

“Now, I know you’re desperate, but given that article you wrote in _The Sydney Morning Herald_ , you’ll have to _work_ for my affection.”

With a flourish, he removed the sheet, revealing an X-cross. Perrottet’s jaw dropped in horror. As he was about to turn around to collect his clothes, Stokes had pushed him against the cross, holding his wrists down as he began to cuff them, before doing the same with his ankles.

With his voice close to his ear, he stroked the Treasurer’s cheek as he gazed off into the urban skyline.

“Now all of Sydney will be able to see how much of a naughty boy you are.”

“You’re sick!” Perrottet spat, wriggling as he tried to get out of his constraints, but to no avail. “I-I’ll tell all of Parliament about this!”

“But would they believe you?” Stokes asked with a smile. His smug, all-knowing expression was unbearable. The Treasurer looked back at the Planning Minister with bewilderment.

“…Especially if they know about your relationship with the Transport Minister?”

The last sentence felt like a slap on the face. How did he work this out? Perrottet had been careful and only saw Constance in private. It was impossible for him to have known that something was going on between the two of them.

“You’re bluffing.” Perrottet responded in disbelief.

“Am I now?” Stokes asked, raising his eyebrows. He walked over to where a toolbox sat nearby, pulling out what appeared to be a crop with a feathered tip. He traced his fingers against the point. “I may just be a Planning Minister to you, but my position has afforded me something that you could only dream of. _Discretion_. Nobody _ever_ suspects a Planning Minister of anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Perrottet demanded as he watched the politician walk back to him. Stokes seemed to ramble so much but provide so little clarity about anything.

The feathered tip traced against his arm, causing him to flinch slightly. “I know _all_ about your rendezvous with Andrew Constance.” He answered, his eyes gleaming at that knowledge, “Just think…when you are in your office together, talking about the Parramatta light rail, did it not occur to you that sounds of gasps and shuffling could be indicative of another kind of discussion?” Stokes leaned closer, the feathered tip moving against his shoulder, “Or at least, wouldn’t you have an actual discussion of the rail, record it and play it over the _real_ sounds that were coming from your office?”

“What are you going to do to me?” Perrottet asked in horror. The Planning Minister knew too much, and he could not risk getting on his bad side now.

Stokes merely smiled as the feathered tip shifted towards the side of the Treasurer’s neck. He shivered at the sensation.

“You’ve got very sensitive skin, Dom.” Stokes remarked. “But don’t act like you don’t enjoy this. It’s as clear as day that you’re as hard as a rock right now.” He planted a kiss on his lips, slowly and tantilisingly whilst his free hand grabbed the other man’s erection, giving it a few strokes. “Don’t deny it, Dom…” Stokes whispered between kisses, “You may act like the good little Catholic boy, but I know you better than that. After all, I am a man of faith myself.”

The Planning Minister finally pulled away, tracing the feathered tip against Perrottet’s collarbone, watching the way goosebumps formed on the fair skin. “There’s no shame in enjoying being my bitch. Even Mike Baird loves it when I do this.”

He went over to the toolbox, taking out what appeared to be two clamps attached to a singular chain. Stokes walked over to Perrottet, opening up one of the clamps and closing it on one of his nipples. Perrottet flinched as he did so, but he could not get out of his binds and helplessly watched the Planning Minister as he clamped his other nipple. Even though the cold metal against him was a shock at first, he was beginning to find the sensation of being pinched so arousing. He bit his lip, trying to hold back his moans in fear of looking like he was enjoying this more than he should.

The feather traced down Perrottet’s torso. Beads of sweat began to drip off his chest as the tip moved towards his belly. For a moment, it appeared as if the tip would move towards the groin, but it veered off course, tracing against one of his thighs instead.

“You’ve got quite nice thighs for a Treasurer. Most men in your position usually let themselves go…but not you.” Stokes marvelled as Perrottet began to shake slightly as the tip edged inwards. The Planning Minister’s lips were only inches away from Perrottet’s ear “It’s a shame you hide them in those suits all the time.” Gently, he gnawed against his ear lobe, the feathered tip making its way slowly towards the Treasurer’s groin.

“Did Andrew ever do this with you, I wonder?” Stokes asked, smirking as the politician trembled at each stroke of the feather. The Treasurer’s breathing was getting louder, despite his best efforts to keep his mouth closed. Stokes watched the way Perrottet’s eyes screwed shut behind his glasses, afraid to give away a single sign of his enjoyment.

“Oh… but Dom, he hasn’t taught you control.”

As he said this, the feathered tip traced along his shaft, causing Perrottet to shake violently.

“I can see you so badly want to pretend that you’re not feeling anything, just like how you want to pretend that you were not at all responsible for funding the very eyesores that you claim to loathe. You’re a man of contradiction.” He traced the tip against his cock a second time, which was now dripping with precum from all the arousal he was struggling to hold back. “Saying how much you value tradition and family…and yet here you are, so incredibly horny for me.”

“Sh-shut up!” Perrottet gasped, before he interrupted himself with a moan as Stokes continued to toy with him, running the feathered tip around his cock in slow, circular motions. “I-I will _never_ take responsibility for something so brutally ugly and against traditional Australian values.”

Despite trying to fight back at the claims, the sternness of his voice, which was so present during Parliamentary sessions, had been replaced with a quiver.

The Planning Minister chuckled and for a moment, Perrottet felt insulted. The whole ordeal felt so belittling, and it was even worse having to listen to that man prattle on as well.

“You think that’s brutalism?” Stokes asked, his lips curling into a smile. To Perrottet’s relief, he began to uncuff his ankles before removing the restraints from his wrists. The nipple clamps were also removed; although Perrottet was a little disappointed to see them go.

But unbeknownst to the Treasurer, his relief was soon to be short-lived.  
  
“I’ll show _you_ brutalism.”

Stokes grabbed hold of Perrottet’s wrist, which was still aching, and dragged him towards the window. Despite the man’s slight figure, he had a considerable amount of strength. All those early mornings of surfing on the northern beaches would have built up his strength, whilst the Treasurer languished in his office. An occasional jog here and there was no match for Stokes’s stamina.

Perrottet tried to pull away, but he could not…would not. With a slight shove, Stokes pushed the Treasurer against the window. Perrottet’s sweaty palms pressed against the glass as he gazed out into the concrete jungle. The sound of zipper could be heard behind him.

The smooth, tanned hands gripped against his bare torso, pulling him close. Perrottet could feel the Planning Minister’s erection pressing against him and he surrendered instantly, gasping as he felt his length inside him. A few biting kisses grazed the side of his neck, and he moaned in response, his body overwhelmed by all the points of pleasure that Stokes managed to touch. Stokes’s breathing was heavy as he moved his hips back and forth, the gentle hands still clasping onto the Treasurer almost lovingly.

“G-God…” Perrottet moaned through gritted teeth. He was trembling as his colleague’s well-endowed member continued to penetrate him, his hips picking up the pace. Although Perrottet hated how this man had so much power over him, he desperately wanted him. He was on the edge of the precipice now and he just needed that final, brutal shove to bring him to his knees.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Treasurer.” Stokes purred, his lips caressing the flushed cheek of the other.

“Shut up and keep going.” Perrottet demanded.

He felt a slap to his backside. The Treasurer shivered, remembering how much he enjoyed being disciplined.

“I’m the one calling the shots, remember?” Stokes responded, grunting as he continued his motions. “Even though I am just a Planning Minister, you’ll always be my bitch… _Demolition Dom_.”

Upon hearing that nickname, a hot, white anger flashed before his eyes and Perrottet remembered sitting at his desk, writing that article to get back at Stokes. It all felt so long ago now. Instinctively, his hands gripped hold of his colleague’s. He held his hands so roughly that his nails dug into the skin, causing Stokes to gasp.

Instantly, Stokes gave a few harder, deeper thrusts, making the Treasurer shake violently with every penetration as he reached the climax he had been craving for a long time.

Perrottet fell to his knees, panting as he struggled to regain his composure. For a minute, he expected Stokes to just stare at him from above.

But the Planning Minister joined him on the floor, pulling him into an embrace, before giving him one final, brutal kiss.

“I hope now you understand the value of this architecture now.” Stokes replied clinically, getting back to his feet. Perrottet reached out to embrace him, but the Planning Minister brushed him away, the deed done.

Wordlessly, Perrottet dressed with haste and the two made their way back to Parliament. Not another word was exchanged, for Perrottet knew that Stokes had won. Even though he detested the architecture of the MLC Centre, he was never going to forget the feelings of pleasure that would be associated with it. He had a newfound love for brutalism, and to his horror, he was unable to talk himself out of it.

~

At the end of the day, Perrottet sat at his desk, still stunned by the events that had happened earlier on. He did not even notice the knock on his door and the pattering of familiar footsteps as Constance walked in to see him. His back was faced towards the Transport Minister, his mind miles away.

“Dom, are you okay?” Constance asked, concern in his voice.

He wanted so badly to turn around and tell him that everything was all right and to embrace him and kiss him the way he always enjoyed. But things were different now. Greyish eyes glazed over as he tried to process everything, Perrottet did not know what he could tell his lover. Was there anything he could say to him that would bring him relief? Because he knew there was nothing the Transport Minister could say that would bring him solace.

“Dom?”

A bitter smile curled on his lips. There was no way he could ever tell him what happened. Every inch of his being was desperate to throw him the key and let him into his dark, tormented mind, but Stokes had gotten to him first. He may have been a Planning Minister, but somehow he had more power than the second most powerful person in the state. 

All he could do now was stare hopelessly in the distance, the words of concern falling upon deaf ears.  
  
  
He had well and truly fallen over the edge of the precipice.

**Author's Note:**

> *Footnotes for explanations:
> 
> “It was perhaps more boring than watching one of his children’s school plays, and wondering why they put a lobster of all things into a nativity play.”: This is a sneaky reference to the best Christmas film of all time, Love Actually. Such a random reference but it came to me as I was writing and just seemed to work, so I ran with it. 
> 
> “You, Demolition Dom and me, Restoration Rob.”: I had been directly inspired by a particular quote of the Planning Minister. This whole situation of the White Bay Power Station was also influential to this fic. You can see the link below of the quote, as well as some lovely images of the two in Hazmat suits.
> 
> https://business.facebook.com/robstokesmp/posts/2915694148713903?__tn__=-R 
> 
> “Ten iconic buildings I’d bulldoze, by Treasurer Dominic Perrottet”: The Treasurer’s article also provided some inspiration for this fic, thanks to a friend who drew this to my attention. Although there is no way of knowing what Perrottet was thinking as he wrote this article, this fic used artistic license in exaggerating a mad frenzy that prompted it. Feel free to consult the link below if you are interested in the article.
> 
> https://www.smh.com.au/politics/nsw/ten-iconic-buildings-i-d-bulldoze-by-treasurer-dominic-perrottet-20201124-p56hc5.html


End file.
